


Steve Hood and his Merry Men

by amerasu1013 (amerasu_1013)



Series: Marvel Crack AUs [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Crack, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Robin Hood, Crack, Crack Crossover, F/M, Gen, M/M, Minor Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Minor Riley/Sam Wilson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 13:54:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4394465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amerasu_1013/pseuds/amerasu1013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Steve is Robin Hood, Maid Marian is not what she seems, a lot is stolen from "Prince of Thieves" and there are several questions left unanswered:</p><p>- Why are Steve's Men always so merry?<br/>- Is Clint really a Friar?<br/>- Will Bucky really punch you if you call him a fair maiden?</p><p>(answers: probably something in the forest, don't ask about that and yes, most definitely)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In which Steve becomes the Prince of Thieves and all his Men are Merry

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know, you guys. I was playing a Robin Hood PC game and then... this just happened. Total crack, by the way, if you couldn't already tell.  
> Additionally: Neither the Marvel guys are mine, nor any of the merry men. And, as usual, English is not my native tongue and this is un-betaed, so please point out any mistakes....

_Jerusalem_

Steve presses further into the shadows when he hears the guards shouting from the main street and tries to calm his panting breaths. He relaxes only when the guards’ voices have faded completely, settling more comfortably on the wooden crate he’s using as a chair and gets back to working the broken cuffs off his wrists. His erstwhile companion sits down opposite from Steve, eyes glinting from a face as dark as the shadows in which they are hiding. “So,” he says, throwing him a curious look and then a melon, “thanks for saying me from execution, I guess.”

Steve nods and cracks the melon open, offering half of it back to the other. “You’re very welcome.”

For a while, they eat in silence. Steve ponders what to do now. Go back home, he supposes. He sighs. It’ll be a long and boring journey, but there’ll probably be a feast at the end, which is always awesome. Still, long and boring journey.

Steve has a thought. “Hey, uh, you wanna come home with me? To England?”

The other stares. “You always pick up random strangers to take home? Also, you don’t sound like you’re from England.”

“You don’t sound like you’re Arabic, either.” Steve counters, biting into his melon. God, he hates melons. But, well, he hated the prison food more.

“Fair point.” The other shrugs. “And sure, why not. Nothing better to do here anyway and I’m sick of melons, so yeah, sure. Name’s Sam, by the way.”

“Great!” Steve says, “I’m Steve.”

They shake hands just as they hear more shouting from the main street and the hasty clink-clink of guards running in full armor.

Steve sighs and puts down his melon. “We might have to do a bit more running first, though.”

Sam rolls his eyes and gets up as well. “Oh joy. Though if you say ‘on your left’ one more time, I’m gonna punch you. Just so you know.”

Steve is fine with that and off they are. Towards freedom, towards home. Towards England.

 

_England_

Steve was wrong about two things:

a) While the journey was definitely very long, it wasn’t boring. Sam’s awesome that way, funny and entertaining and doing this with him at Steve’s side just makes the time fly by. Seems like one second they’re in Jerusalem, the next second they’re in a boat staring at the white cliffs of Dover, it’s great. Even the whole bit where he told Steve that Sam owed him his life and was gonna make sure to stick around until he repaid the favor was less annoying that Steve might have thought (he hates owing people, and he likes it even less when people think they owe him, because he was just doing what’s right and it’s stupid to sentence people to death because they are in love. Anyway.), because Sam has this way off talking about serious issues in the most dry and sarcastic and funny way ever, which makes them seem so much less serious, which is probably the point. So, a long journey but definitely not a boring one.

b) There’s no feast at the end because it turns out Steve’s Dad got killed by the Sheriff of Nottingham’s henchmen because he refused to stand down in the face of injustice (and people wonder where Steve gets that from) and a Sheriff who thinks he can just take everyone’s money because it’s not like people need to, well, eat and stuff.

In conclusion, the Sheriff is a total dick and Steve’s gonna punch him in his dickish face the second he sees him, seriously. Pierce. Even his name sounds dickish. And Steve’s Daddy is dead and his castle is burned to ruins and apparently he now has to sleep in a forest. All of this sucks.

Sam makes it a little better, though.

“Seriously,” Sam says, peering through the branches at that guy Brock of Guisborne who thinks it’s okay to shout about Steve’s Dad being a coward and squealing like a pig when he died and all that stuff, “doesn’t he ever brush his teeth? Disgusting, that’s what it is.”

And Steve has to smile a little, even with his eyes still wet (because, man, his Daddy is dead) and Sam is the greatest.

But sleeping in the forest still sucks.

 

_Sherwood Forest_

Through no fault of his own, a short while later Steve suddenly is somehow the prince of thieves or king of outlaws and has a whole bunch of people following him around. Seriously, not his fault. You give a piece of bread to an orphan once and a couple of coins to an old widow twice and suddenly you’re a hero. It’s weird, is what it is, people looking up to you and thinking you’re the greatest just because you’re doing what’s _right_ (damn it). And slightly annoying, because his men are always so _merry_.

But they’ve built little huts in Sherwood, so at least there’s that. The rain bothers them less and there are no more roots digging into various uncomfortable places, which makes sleeping in the forest so much more comfortable.

Plus, they are safe here, in Sherwood, the Sheriffs’ men won’t come in here because they think the place is haunted. It’s just children’s toys hanging from the trees and Steve’s commandos howling like demons at the forest’s edges to keep out their pursuers, but it works. Nobody will ever find them here, which is very convenient since Steve actually doesn’t have a home or a castle anymore. Sherwood is a nice little safe haven where no one will ever find them.

Until some day, someone does.

The men (now not so merry) freak out a little, because if one person can find them, who says that others won’t, like, dunno, Brock of Guisborne or the Sheriff, who everybody knows has spies everywhere. And then they freak out a little more, because what if that person is in fact one of those spies? And the very next second there’ll be scary people from Saxonia all over the place? And then they freak out some more (but in a kind of good way) because:

The person who found them is actually a woman.

Who’s quite calmly standing there, surrounded by people pointing arrows at her and sticks and swords and throwing her barely-veiled come-hither glances. She’s looking a little bored, actually. Her expression is weirdly familiar, Steve thinks, squinting at her. He remembers that expression quite clearly from way back when… oh!

“Calm down, everybody!” he shouts, windmilling his arms and cursing when the shield on his back hinders his movement. “It’s all right! I know her! That’s Natasha! She’s my…” he flounders for a bit, because keeping up with his extended family tree has never been his forte, “… my niece! Cousin!”

Everybody’s staring at him now. “I don’t know, actually! Half-sister twice removed! She’s… something!”

Natasha stares at him for a second. Then she announces: “They call me Scarlet.” She shakes her fiery-red hair and smirks. “Obviously.”

Steve shakes his head and grins, wrapping Natasha in a giant hug, which she returns after only a second. “Good to see you!” he says and means it.

She gives him a little smile, a private one. “You too, Steve.”

Everybody’s still staring. “How come you found us?” One of the men pipes up suddenly, “You’re just a girl!”

Natasha’s eyes narrow, but before she can do anything, the man who just spoke gets hit in the head by an apple and topples over, unconscious. Clint strolls over and picks the apple back up. “Please,” he says, biting into the apple, “she’s as much ‘just a girl’ as I am a friar.”

Nat cocks her head in interest and looks him over, eyes quickly travelling over his monk robes up to his daring smirk. Then she huffs and with her nose held high informs the audience: “He’s right. I’m a lady.”

Clint offers her his arm, she deigns to take it and he leads her away, the both of them smirking at each other. Nat makes sure to step on the unfortunate unconscious man on the ground. Somehow, this makes everybody cheer suddenly and very loudly, and that’s that.

 

_A street near Sherwood Forest_

Steve huddles behind the shrubbery and keeps his ears peeled for the sound of a coach approaching. See, the thing is, if you start giving money to the poor, you get a reputation. And with that reputation you can’t just walk into any old hamlet anymore without bringing more stuff to hand out, because people, well, expect being handed _more stuff_. And since Steve doesn’t actually have a donkey shitting gold hidden somewhere, that means he needs money. Which he’s taking from the rich, for obvious reasons. Well, not all of the rich, there are exceptions, people he doesn’t take from. Like Abbess Maria from the Hill Convent, because she’s giving all her money to the poor anyway and also because she’s scary (not that Steve will admit that). Or Lord Tony, who’s constantly pestering Steve to come live in his castle. But, well, the other rich people, the mean ones. Those who don’t care about the poor, those rich people. Steve takes from them and he doesn’t feel guilty about it. Not much, anyway.

One he absolutely doesn’t feel guilty about stealing from is His Dickness Pierce, Sheriff of Nottingham. Especially since Steve’s spies (okay, Natasha) have heard word about a carriage transporting presents for Pierce’s intended, some sort of betrothal gift it seems. Two birds with one stone, really: stealing from Pierce and making him angry AND making a fair maiden angry with Pierce when she doesn’t get her presents. Steve’s awesome like that at multi-tasking.

But for now, he’s just cold. And wet. And slightly miserable. Stupid English weather. He huddles closer to Sam for warmth and gets an elbow in the side for his troubles.

“Back off, man!” Sam squawks and pushes him away, “your stupid hood got water all over my face! Why you gotta wear that thing anyway?!”

Steve scowls and pulls his hood down further. “I kind of have to, with what they call me and stuff.”

Sam opens his mouth, no doubt to let loose an outraged tirade about conforming to people’s expectation of other people and being your own self and whatnot, but that’s when Steve’s ears pick up the sound of horses. Aha! Showtime.

Later, when Steve and his (always so merry) men have defeated every soldier accompanying the carriage and are currently busy tying them up, Steve looks through the myriad of coffers and chests and bundles that make up this week’s haul. Not bad, he thinks, sifting through an assortment of jewelry, not bad at all. One rich man will be mad and a whole lot of poor people will be happy. Strange, though. Almost the entire collection of cloth is black. Velvet and silk, sure, nice cloth, but still. One would think Pierce’s intended might prefer a bit of color. Steve for example, not that he’s a fair maiden, likes red. And blue. And maybe white. Maybe she’s a nun or something? They wear black, don’t they?

He’s distracted by Sam’s elbow digging into a tender spot between his ribs. Ouch. “What!” he glares a little, trying to open the lock on the next chest. It’s being stubborn.

“Who is that?” Sam asks and his voice sounds weird, all faint and breathy.

Steve follows his line of sight to the single soldier left standing. His hands are tied at his back and he’s looking a little uncomfortable. He’s also the only soldier still conscious (or alive), because the very second Steve and his (annoyingly merry) men jumped out from the bushes he punched a bowman right in the face before that guy could shoot at Bruce. Steve’s always priding himself on being able to read people, and that guy doesn’t feel like an enemy. He’d thought he’d take the guy with them, see if he maybe wants to switch sides. Chances are good, Steve thinks. And judging from the quick little looks the guy is throwing Sam and the faint hint of a blush high on his cheeks, chances are in fact excellent.

They take their loot back to Sherwood, where Steve gets Clint to pick the lock on the last, stubborn chest. A skill he apparently picked up on his travels as a man of God. Steve doesn’t even ask anymore. Natasha is wearing Clint’s monk cowl, which is just… Steve doesn’t ask about that either.

The soldier they’ve… captured? Picked up? The soldier who came with them is sitting a way off, hands still tied. Someone has taken off his blindfold and he’s looking around with wide eyes. Yeah, blindfold, Steve’s not stupid, he’s not gonna go around showing just anybody the easiest way to his camp, okay? And anyway, Sam made sure the soldier didn’t hurt himself while walking blind, careful hands on his elbow keeping him from tripping over roots and warning him about low-hanging tree branches in a gentle voice. Steve smirks to himself, a smirk that only widens when he spots Sam hurrying by, carrying a bowl of stew.

“Sam!” he calls out, while Clint wanders off, having lost interest in the chest now that the lock is picked. Natasha’s following him and Steve’s pretty sure she’s naked under that cowl and he’s not gonna think about that anymore, thank you. That’s his… cousin. Niece? His somebody.

Sam makes moon-eyes over to where the soldier sits but steps closer to Steve. He fidgets a little when Steve raises an eyebrow at the bowl. “Thought he might be hungry, did you, Sam?”

Sam scowls. “So what?”

“Nothing, nothing.” Steve smirks. “So, that… Mullah’s wife, was it? Jasmina?”

Sam scowl deepens. “Yeah yeah yeah. Jason, actually.”

“Thought so. And…?”

“And nothing and get off my back and you’re the worst.”

Steve raises both hands in surrender. “All right, all right. You, uh, go on, you. Go get ‘em, tiger.”

Sam shakes his head in despair. “Go get ‘em? Yeah, you actually are the worst.”

Steve ducks his head. “Well, yeah. Um. His name is Riley, in case… you know. Just so you know.” It is, Steve’s asked him.

“Riley, hm?” Sam hums thoughtfully. “Nice name. I wonder if he likes chocolate? Because I sure like cream.”

Steve cringes at that. “Urgh, don’t say stuff like that. What’s chocolate, anyway?”

Sam’s voice sounds vague when he answers, eyes fixed on Riley. “No idea, actually. Something like an anachronism, I think. Hey, you think I can untie his hands?”

Steve pretends to ponder this. “I don’t think so, sorry. I guess you’ll have to feed him.”

From the way Sam perks up at that, he doesn’t think it will be that big of a problem.

Steve shakes his head and refocuses on the chest before him. It’s a little like Christmas, this, like opening presents. Well, okay, presents he stole, but who cares. Semantics. And this particular present, huh. That’s quite… a lot of knives. A _lot_ of knives, he thinks, and picks up a wickedly sharp looking dagger. Kind of a weird betrothal gift for a fair maiden, but, well, the woman clearly has excellent taste in weaponry.

 

_Sherwood Forest (again)_

“THAT’S NOT MY NAME!!!”

Bruce’s shout doesn’t just ring through the forest and make the (still so damn merry) men grab for their weapons in sudden alarm, no. It makes the trees shake and the earth tremble. Man sure has a pair of lungs on him. Steve rubs his still ringing ears. Damn, that was loud. “Don’t make him angry!” he yells in the general direction of Bruce. “You know what happens if you make him angry!”

He sighs and turns back around towards his impromptu war-council. “Where were we?” He says and then Bruce interrupts again.

“I SAID THAT IS NOT MY NAME! IT’S BRUCE LITTLE NOT… NOT THE OTHER WAY ROUND!!”

This time not only the trees shake and the earth trembles, but also a dozen spears leaning against the wall and a couple of old men fall over. Steve hastens to get up, he has to interfere before something drastic happens. Morons, the lot of them, they know Bruce has a _condition_. But before he’s taken a single step, there’s another voice ringing through the trees:

“Brucie! Pookie! I thought I heard your dulcet tones!”

Steve smiles and sits down again. Tony’s got this. At first Steve wasn’t quite sure how he felt about the Lord coming here all the time since Tony got sick of trying to get Steve to move in with him and declared that, well, then he’d just come live with them (which hasn’t happened, so far, Tony’s in Sherwood all the time, but he still sleeps in his castle because of reasons like his bed). But their weapons have never been in better shape and weirdly enough, Tony actually has a calming effect on Bruce. Maybe because Bruce, as Tony says, is the only one who understands him, but maybe also because Tony kind of… has a _condition_ himself.

But that’s not what’s important right now, Steve remembers when he turns around and finds his war council glaring at him. “Uh,” he says eloquently, “so where were we?”

Natasha glares. “It’s a trap.”

Steve sighs. “I know.”

Sam glares. “It’s a trap, Steve.”

Steve sighs, again. “I know. Anything else?”

Riley (who’s not actually in the war council) wanders by and tells him it’s a trap. He’s not glaring, at least, he’s mostly making doe-eyes at Sam who makes them right back, which is just as annoying. Steve sighs. “I KNOW.”

Natasha elbows Clint, who’s the only one who hasn’t spoken yet, twirling an arrow around in his fingers so fast it kind of makes Steve dizzy just watching. Clint shrugs and balances the arrow on his fingertip, pointy end downward like the showoff he is. “It’s a trap and Steve knows that and he’s gonna go anyway, no matter what we say.”

“Damn right!” Steve says loudly, then winces when Sam and Natasha immediately transfer their glares from Clint to Steve himself. Eep.

“Look,” he says, trying for calm and unaffected (eep), “I know it’s a trap. This whole shooting contest isn’t about winning a silver arrow or celebrating Pierce’s betrothal, I know. It’s an excuse to try and catch me, us, I know that.”

Sam and Natasha nod in confirmation, Clint looks bored. “But!” Steve says, making Natasha and Sam narrow their eyes in suspicion. “But! I’m still going. Because, don’t you see? I know it’s a trap. I know it is, which means…”

Nat starts smiling slowly, Sam sits a little straighter: “Which means you can change it. Set a trap on them?”

Steve spreads his hands and nods. “Exactly. Pierce thinks he can catch us? We’ll show him it’s just the other way round.”

Clint whistles appreciatively. “Nice. What’s the plan then?”

Steve grins at him. “You’re gonna love this: We’re gonna kidnap Pierce’s bride.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: there was no chocolate in Medieval Europe. It only arrived there in the 16th century, like the potato. But you knew that already and I've just outed myself as a smartass. Sorry...


	2. In which the Sheriff's bride is neither fair nor a maiden

_Nottingham_

The flaw in Steve’s plan becomes apparent quite suddenly. And as far as flaws go, it’s a pretty big problem.

It’s not when they sneak into Nottingham, Natasha dressed as a nun (which still feels wrong, especially after Steve walked in on her and Clint when they were already dressed for the occasion and he’ll never forget the sight of a nun making out with someone and just no), Sam as a leper (which he constantly moans and bitches about, apparently it’s such a cliché). Riley and Bruce and a bunch of others follow in Tony’s entourage, dressed in the Tony’s lordly colors of bright red and gold, looking very inconspicuous and, Riley at least, according to Sam, good enough to eat (also just no, Sam’s his best friend, eww). Clint goes as a simple freeman, since he’s the one who will actually take part in the shooting contest (as he pointed out he is a better shot than Steve, which is true and Steve’s not jealous, thank you very much, and he didn’t want that stupid silver arrow anyway) and Steve himself is a monk, wearing Clint’s cowl and trying very hard not to think about what those stains might be. They sneak into Nottingham easily, no problem there.

It’s also not during the shooting contest, where Clint distracts everybody with his fancy shooting, drawing oohs and aahs from the crowd. It’s not when the award ceremony ends up in a giant mass brawl (caused by Sam and Riley), because that was the plan and causes enough of a distraction so Steve can sneak into the castle. As soon as the fighting started, Pierce had pulled his dainty bride away from the balcony, back to the safety of the castle, so now Steve only has to go get her.

It’s _also_ not when he makes his way through hallway after hallway, towards the upper levels, encountering nobody because every soldier is outside, trying to get the crowd under control. Or when he comes across the only door being guarded, two armored men standing in front of it, because Steve’s always been good at fighting and disposes of them no problem and because if this is where the guards are, chances are the fair maiden Pierce wants to marry will be behind that door. See? No problem.

Only it is, because while Steve was right about Pierce’s bride being behind that door, he may have been wrong about, oh, _everything else_.

Steve only got a glimpse of long, brown hair earlier, up up up on that balcony and he doesn’t get much more of a look now. Because the second he steps through the door, Pierce’s betrothed throws a table at him. And then proceeds to beat the ever-loving shit out of him.

This is the flaw: Pierce’s betrothed is neither a maiden nor fair. In fact, she’s a man. Who fights dirty.

And wears all black. And has a lot of knives (oh hey! That explains the gifts), which he is currently using to try and turn Steve into a pin cushion. And has the most stunning blue eyes Steve has ever seen. And just punched him right in the face. And is most certainly, most definitely, most violently not willing to be kidnapped.

Steve stumbles backwards and hits the wall. “Hey!” he yells, because he kind of needs to make a new plan now and that’s not easy when someone punches you in the face, he just needs a moment here. “Hey!” he yells again when Pierce’s, erm, bride? (Groom? _Broom_?) tries to kick him in the stomach. “Hey, let’s just-“ He has to avoid another kick, back hitting the wall. “Can we just take a break here?”

A fist punches the wall where Steve’s head was only a moment ago. Steve winces and stumbles backwards, getting a table between himself and the other man. “Sorry!” he says, because that’s got to hurt the guy’s hand, hitting the wall like that. “I didn’t mean to!”

The other man blinks in confusion, then narrows his eyes again and takes several running steps towards the table, as if he means to jump over it. “Woah woah woah!” Steve raises his hands again and does his best to appear unthreatening. Which is hard, considering he just knocked out two guards and then, well, it’s pretty obvious why he came in here probably, since everybody knows his face and his hatred of everything Pierce. Or Brock, let’s not forget _him_. “Just stop for a moment! Can’t we talk about this?”

He actually needs a moment, or several, because this is most definitely not going as planned and he needs to figure out how to proceed. It doesn’t help that he’s still slightly winded from getting hit by a table earlier and then hitting the wall and he’s pretty sure his nose is broken. It also doesn’t help that looking at the frankly… gorgeous brunet glaring at him with murder in his eyes does weird things to his stomach. Not the point right now, though. Not when the other kicks the table out of the way – damn, he’s strong! And handsome. NOT THE POINT. – and advances in a decidedly predatory way. The other’s eyes capture Steve’s attention again. They look like the sky. A thunderous, stormy, violent sky, but still. So pretty.

“Just stop, okay? I think we got off on the wrong foot, let’s just…”

The very next second the air is whooshing in his ears because Pierce’s intended just threw him out of the window.

Steve doesn’t mind though, even when he lands in the moat and everybody knows that’s where the sewage ends up in. He doesn’t mind because he’s pretty sure he’s in love.

 

_Sherwood Forest_

“Seriously? Seriously? You’re in love? SERIOUSLY?”

“Hey!” Steve feels a little hurt, because Sam doesn’t have to sound _so_ disbelieving and what Nat’s doing to his nose smarts quite a bit. “I can be in love if I want!”

“That’s not the point!” Sam yells. “You can’t be in love _with him_! You just met the guy! You didn’t even meet, he just beat you up!”

“Yeah,” Steve sighs dreamily, “and he’s really good at it, too.”

“Not the point either! That’s Pierce’s betrothed, you moron! You can’t be in love with him! Pierce is your arch-nemesis!”

“But _he’s_ not Pierce,” Steve points out reasonably, “he’s not a villain.”

“The dude punched you in the face, Steve!”

“Love tap. Barely felt it.” Steve says dismissively, then flinches when Natasha does something mean to his nose. Behind her, Clint is laughing so hard he almost falls over.

Sam throws up his arms in exasperation. “You don’t even know his name!”

“That didn’t stop _you_.” Riley comments and looks very innocent when Sam whirls around to glare at him. That glare turns into a besotted look and Clint laughs some more.

Steve sighs. “But you’re right.” He stares forlornly at the ground, well, as much as he can see of it with Natasha still doing whatever it is she's doing to his nose.

“Aha!” Sam crows at that, looking vindicated.

“I _don’t_ know his name.” Steve sighs again, a great big huff of air seeming to come from his toes. Sam growls.

“It’s James.” Tony comments offhandedly from where he’s sitting next to Bruce, examining every inch of Clint’s silver arrow. “You know, the fledging is really sub-par on this.”

Two things happen at these words: Steve throws himself across the clearing and Tony shrieks, because Steve is suddenly almost sitting on his chest.

“James? His name is James? How do you know that? Why do you know that? Tony! Tony, do you know him?!”

“Personal space!” yells Tony and “Steve, let him go!” yells Sam and Clint is just laughing, while Natasha dusts herself off while informing Steve that his nose is not broken and to come get her when he’s done being a moron, which causes Clint to laugh even more. Then Bruce hollers “EVERYBODY SHUT UP!”

And everybody does, because Bruce has a condition. They all sit down meekly, even Clint’s chuckles have stopped. Bruce glares at them from flashing green eyes, chest heaving with every breath and yeah, everybody knows what happens when he gets angry, so meek it is.

“So,” Bruce says, very calmly, “Tony. Tell Steve how you know that.”

Tony frowns. “I know him? Didn’t I tell?”

Clint starts laughing again, Sam closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. Bruce takes a deep breath, then another one. Riley eyes him worriedly, then says: “No, you didn’t tell us.”

Steve, well, Steve can’t say anything right now, because James. _James_. The most beautiful name he’s ever heard in his entire life.

Tony rubs his head. “Uh, yeah. His Dad and mine go way back, we’re distantly related? Seriously? I thought I told you that. He’s been staying at my castle these past few weeks.”

Sam releases an outraged howl and only Riley tackling him keeps him from lunging at Tony. “WHAT? And you let us go to that contest and almost got us captured or killed?!”

The others stare for a second, then Bruce yells and _does_ tackle Tony, at which point everybody but Steve tackles _Bruce_. Steve is not, though, he’s busy smiling at the sky. Because now he knows where he might see James again.

 

_Stark castle, exterior_

Steve sneaks on noiseless feet, ever closer to forest’s edge, towards Stark castle. He’s usually not sneaking when he’s coming here, since Tony’s on their side and all, but right now there’s a couple dozen of Pierce’s soldiers here as honor guard for James, therefore: sneaking. Steve hides behind a tree and peers out, yep, guards on the lowered draw bridge. Damn it. Hm. How to go about getting in there…

“You’re a moron.” Natasha’s voice sounds directly in his ear and Steve flails a little.

“Nat! My God! You scared me half to death!”

She smirks at him, pleased with herself. “You’re also apparently deaf.”

Steve glares. “What do you want?” he asks and peers around the tree again. Maybe he can climb up the wall or something?

“I wanted to inform you that you’re a moron.” Natasha sounds like she’s yawning.

“I’m so very happy that my being in love is so boring for you.” Steve forces out through gritted teeth.

“You’re welcome,” she says and Steve doesn’t even have to look to see the smirk on her face. “and it’s not because of that. Well, not only because of that.”

Steve snarls quietly. “Oh yeah? Why then, pray tell?” If he just runs over there and starts a fight, it will attract more guards. So climbing the wall it is, but how is he gonna get over the moat?

“Because, you moron, there’s a secret entrance. And if you’d waited long enough, Tony would have told you all about it.”

Oh. That might work, too.

 

_Stark castle, interior_

“In the highest room of the tallest tower?” Steve asks again, just to make sure. Nat nods, looking bored again.

“Okay then!” Steve barely refrains from smiling like a lunatic, because not only does he get to sneak through a dark castle with enemies potentially lurking behind every corner, which is always fun, but also, and most importantly, in just a few minutes he’ll see James again. James. Such a beautiful name. James. James and Steve. Steve and James. Steve fights the sudden urge to run to Sherwood and carve their initials into every single goddamn tree. There’s rather a lot of trees in the forest, it might take too long.

Instead, he traipses along the hallway, silent as a shadow, Nat an even more silent and even more shadowy presence behind him. She’s got his back, even if she thinks he’s a moron (which he’s not, he’s just in _love_ ).

And then there’s a tower with a long, winding staircase, and there’s a door at the very top. Its hinges creak a little and Steve winces, but there’s no sound coming from the room that might suggest someone heard it. Steve sneaks inside, Nat a barely-noticeable shadow a little ways down the staircase. Steve makes his way across the room, towards the bed, eyeing the dark, human-shaped lump on it, suddenly quite nervous. This all seemed like a brilliant idea earlier, but now that he’s actually here, he’s not quite that sure anymore. What should he do? What should he say? What if James punches him again? What if James doesn’t _like_ Steve? What if…

Turns out the sharp prick of a knife against Steve’s throat is quite effective in cutting off his rambling thoughts. So is James’ voice in Steve’s ear, dark and slightly hoarse: “What are you doing here?”

Steve shudders in delight. Yes, there is a knife at his throat, glinting silver and deadly in the moonlight, but there’s also James’ face next to his, James’ breath puffing warmly against Steve’s ear and he would only have to turn his head a few degrees and he could kiss –

Oh. Apparently he did do that, turned his head and pressed a kiss to a stubbled cheek, because the very next second Steve is hitting a wall. Again. He wheezes a little and gets up, dusting himself off. James is standing there, staring at him incredulously. “Did you just kiss me?” he asks, sounding shocked.

Steve cringes. Not his best move. “Uh, yeah? Sorry? Too forward?”

James is still staring. “What the fuck?”

Steve breathes shallowly. “I like it when you say ‘fuck’.” He croaks, because hell, he does. So very much.

The other grips his knife a little tighter and continues to stare at him. “What kind of a punk are you?”

“Oh, sorry! Manners!” Steve chuckles and takes a step forward, James taking a hasty step back to maintain the distance between them. “Hi! I’m Steve!” He extends a hand towards James. “Nice to meet you!”

James just stares at him, completely ignoring Steve’s outstretched hand. Steve frowns a little because, hello, rude? Then several things happen at once:

Natasha enters the room behind James, as silent and graceful as a cat, but James notices anyway. He whirls around, the hand holding the knife lifting in preparation for an attack. Shouts ring out from below, which most certainly means someone discovered the guards Steve knocked out on his way here. James jerks minutely, eyes flicking towards the window for the fraction of a second, but it’s enough for Natasha, who flips into a handstand and kicks James in the head.

The knife clatters to the floor, James’ eyes roll back and he slumps to the ground, unconscious. Steve throws himself forward to catch him before James hits the floor. “No!” he hisses, “Nononono! What did you do!”

Natasha snarls at him and checks the stairway for any noise. “Moron! I had to!”

“You didn’t have to kick him, Nat!” Steve argues and cradles James’ limp form. “Look, he’s bleeding! You hurt him!”

“I couldn’t very well let him call for the guards now, could I!” Nat hisses at him like an enraged cat. A cat that is probably also right, damn it. “Now let’s get out of here!”

“No!” Steve hisses back, curling protectively around James, “I’m not leaving him here! He’s bleeding!”

Natasha curses him in a language Steve is pretty sure is probably not Gaelic, but Steve won’t budge. James is _hurt_ , Steve has to take care of him. He’s hurt and, oh, looks so sweet and young and innocent right now, eyes closed, breath puffing gently from soft lips, long eyelashes throwing sweet little half-moon shadows onto his pale cheeks. Steve practically _quivers_ , just looking at him.

“I’m not leaving him here!” He repeats and pins Natasha with his fiercest glare.

She doesn’t throw her hands up, but it’s clear she wants to. “Fine!” she snarls in the end, “Fine, you utter moron! Let’s go then, _now_!”

She may think Steve’s a moron, but she still is awesome, Steve thinks, when she holds open the door to the secret tunnel for him and only rolls her eyes a little when Steve makes sure James doesn’t hit his head on the wall. Steve ignores it, James will be glad he doesn’t get hurt even more. Shit, just look at him. So nice and sweet when he’s, erm, sleeping.

 

_Sherwood Forest_

As it turns out, James awake is neither nice nor sweet. Rather he is pretty violent and scary, trashing around in his bonds and doing his very best to kick in the face of everybody who wanders too close. Steve is very impressed by the other man’s angry determination to get free while simultaneously trying to unleash a whole lot of hurt on the people who dared to tie him up. He also feels quite guilty about the way James’ twisting and turning and wriggling excites him more than it probably should, especially since it’s Steve’s bed he’s doing all that wriggling on, and as soon as he finds out who had the bright idea of putting James in Steve’s own bed, he’s gonna kick their ass. Or maybe hug them, because hot damn. That’s a rather pleasing sight.

Less pleasing is the fact that someone put a gag on James. That will just _not_ do.

“If I take the gag out, will you bite me?” He asks James, because that seems like a legitimate concern right now and Steve usually saves that for the third date. With James, maybe the second.

James glares at him from narrowed eyes that glint with the dare of “try and find out”. Okay then. Steve gingerly removes the gag, doing his very best not to tug on James’ hair too much, and then, yes, has to jump backwards very quickly to avoid snapping teeth.

“Hey! I was trying to help you!” Steve is slightly offended.

“Yeah right,” James rasps, “sure you were, you fucking kidnapper. Why don’t you try again, asshole.”

“So you can try to bite me again? What are you, a wild animal?”

James bares his teeth in a feral smile. “Come and find out. Anything you put near my mouth, I’ll bite clean off.”

Steve frowns. That doesn’t sound promising. In fact… “Anything?”

James’ eyes flicker to Steve’s groin, then flicker up again. “Anything.” He all but purrs, but it doesn’t sound sweet at all. Steve stealthily covers his poor, threatened dick with both hands, James sneers at the gesture. “That’s not gonna help you, asshole.”

Right. Maybe Steve’s going about this the wrong way. Maybe he’s being too forward here, with the bed and all. Maybe they just need to talk a bit first, get to know each other. “So, uh. I’m Steve. I said that already.”

James frowns at him.

“You’re James. Again, nice to meet you?”

James’ frown deepens. “What the fuck are you on about?”

Steve flails a little. Usually that works. Hi, I’m Steve, hi, I’m insert name here, nice to meet you. Wanna grab a drink? Only that last bit won’t happen here, will it, what with James being tied up and all. Uh. Maybe a different topic? “So, uh, I thought you were a girl?”

James stares at him. “Were you dropped on your head a lot as a child?”

“No! Well, yes, but. Doesn’t matter. I meant, I thought, with the betrothal, and Pierce, and, you know?”

James eyes him in disbelief. “You’re something else, you know that?”

Steve scowls. This is not going as swimmingly as he’d hoped. And by the way: “And what do you see in that guy anyway, he’s a total dick. A tiny dick. Tony says he’s tiny, anyway and you could do so much better.”

James is still staring. “Why the fuck do you care?”

Steve flails a little. “Well, just! He’s a bad man and I! Just! There’s other people who would be so much better for you!” There _are_. One in particular. And seriously, marrying Pierce? His arch-nemesis? That just hurts. Seriously, does James really want to marry that dick? Seriously? Does he, oh no, maybe even _love_ Pierce?

James sighs and shakes his head. “You really are a special kind of idiot, aren’t you? It’s not like I _want_ to marry the guy anyway.”

Aha! A ray of hope. “No?” Steve hears how suddenly breathless and, well, hopeful his own voice sounds and winces slightly, because can he sound any more eager?

James must think so as well, because he throws him a slightly weirded-out look. “Well, yeah. My father arranged it, so.”

Oh no! Steve clutches his chest, because that’s just wrong. Arranged marriage? That’s so 10th century. People should marry for love! He makes sure to inform James of this, who looks even more weirded out by Steve’s passionate declaration. Okay, maybe he gave a little speech just now, but it was from the heart. Inspired. Inspired by the tied-up man sitting on Steve’s bed (on his bed!!), but well. Thei relationship is probably not at that stage yet where Steve can throw the L-word around. Yet.

James shrugs despite his bonds, looking sort of depressed and defeated (and cute) at the same time. “Well, my father is an asshole. Not like I can do anything about it.”

“Yes there is! I just had a brilliant idea! There’s something you can do!” Oh, it’s a brilliant, brilliant idea. James clearly doesn’t think it is, he looks slightly wary, but you just wait until you hear it, Steve thinks.

“How would you feel about working with me, I mean us, to defeat the evil Sheriff of Nottingham who also has a tiny dick, taking from the rich and giving to the poor, working with me and also never marrying Pierce because he’s got a tiny dick and I’m way bigger, I mean _better_ than him and I’ll protect you? And working with me?”

James stares at him for a good long while, Steve fidgets and does his best to seem trustworthy and loveable. “I feel,” James says slowly, “the need to point out that I’m neither a damsel nor in distress and you don’t need to protect me.”

Steve smiles, because that’s not a no. And also: “I know I don’t _need_ to, considering you almost broke my face, but, um. What if I _want_ to?”

James looks at him for several moments, searching Steve’s face for he doesn’t know what. Finally, he sighs and shrugs. “Why the hell not.”

Steve beams and hastens over to untie James. He hesitates, though, before actually touching him. “No biting?” He asks sternly.

James smiles at that, a lazy curl of his lips. “Nah,” he says with a slow blink of his eyes, “maybe later.”

This, Steve thinks while he sets about untying the other, does sound like a fun third date. Maybe second date. Ah, who is he kidding, he thinks as James looks up at him through his lashes, first date works, too. This is going to be great, they are going to write _stories_ about this. So many stories.

And who knows? Maybe there’ll be a feast at the end, here in Sherwood, under the stars. And it’ll be awesome.

 

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Head canon: James' Dad is Zola. Who is most definitely an asshole. And at the end there's a marriage and Sean Connery storms off in a huff because he can't be King Richard if Sam Jackson already is. The End.


End file.
